


Late Nights and Tattoos

by lazermonkey



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Baz is actually kinda timid, Baz isn't mean, M/M, Simon is a tattoo artist, tattoo artist au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-14 20:31:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15396855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazermonkey/pseuds/lazermonkey
Summary: Simon is a tattoo artist in one of the most famous shops in the country. Baz goes with Agatha when she gets her first tattoo. Baz decides... maybe he wants one as well?





	Late Nights and Tattoos

**Author's Note:**

> It has been edited! A few changes regarding word choice and phrasing :)

“Ags, are you sure you really want to do this?”

 

The hesitancy in Baz’s voice made said girl roll her eyes for the third time that day. They were almost to the tattoo shop and Baz was practically jumping out of his skin, whereas Agatha was as calm as could be.

 

“Baz, I’ve been talking about this tattoo for months, of course I want it. And this is the best tattoo place in the country. I’ve shown you their awards.” Agatha stopped in front of the shop. She wasn’t about to have this conversation in front of the artists.

 

“But it’s _permanent_ -”

 

Agatha swung open the door to the tattoo parlor, not wanting to hear the same speech about ‘how it’ll be on her body forever.’ She had done her research and made her decision long before she told Baz about it.

 

Warm laughter filled the shop as the two stepped in. The tattoo parlor looked exactly how Baz imagined it to be: full of different styles of art and color, with posters of bands and even posters with the anatomy of tattoo tools. There were modern chairs and couches, tables and end pieces, along with a small fridge in the corner that Baz presumed was full of water.

 

What surprised Baz, though, was how homey it felt. The colors of the walls weren’t too garish (a warm, cocoa brown) and there were scattered vases full of various types of flowers. Floor to ceiling windows filled the entire front section of the store, letting in a ton of natural sunlight. The front desk was on the right side of the room, a wall behind the area, sectioning off the foyer of the shop from the back rooms. Baz peeked down the hallway to catch a glimpse of any of the artists, but to no avail.

 

A girl with bright purple curls and deep skin was hunched over and typing away at the computer, while a customer lingered at the desk. Her cat-eye glasses gave her a type of style that Baz couldn’t really put a name to and she had designs all down her arms, all of them appearing to be in white ink. She glanced up to Agatha and Baz before scribbling something and handing it to the customer, wishing them a good day. She finally stood straight and gave a dazzling smile. “How can I help you two today?”

 

Agatha returned the smile. “I have an appointment today with Simon Snow.”

 

The purple-haired girl nodded and leaned around the wall, calling for the boy in question. The thing that surprised Baz most that day, was when Simon Snow came bounding down the hallway.

 

The first thing Baz noticed was his bright, bronze hair. It was as if it caught fire when he stepped into the sunlight, bouncing wildly on top of his head. The next thing he noticed was how fair is skin was, covered in freckles and moles but… no sign of ink. It almost threw Baz off at how untouched his skin seemed to be. The only sign of imperfection was two, small gauges, one in each ear. The last thing Baz noticed - which ended up being his favorite thing to notice - was sparkling blue eyes. They held such excitement and joy that Baz almost smiled just looking at them.

 

“Aggie!” The boy crashed forward and wrapped the blonde into a tight hug.

 

Baz quirked an eyebrow. “You two know each other?”

 

Agatha pulled away and turned to Baz, nodding, Simon keeping an arm around his friend’s shoulders. Baz ignored the dropping feeling in his stomach.

 

“We dated for a little bit in secondary school, but we both kinda drifted apart and broke it off mutually. We still love each other immensely though, and when I learned he was a tattoo artist, there was no hesitation that I wanted him to do the piece for me.” Agatha looked back up at the freckled boy.

 

“I sketched a few ideas out, if you want to come back and look. Baz, you’re free to tag along.” Simon’s eyes were now on the dark haired figure and Baz shifted nervously.

 

He swallowed before following the two back to Simon’s room. He started to feel claustrophobic at the tightness of the hallway and peering into blocky workspaces. All of the artificial light and the smell of cleaning products was already getting to his head.

 

When they entered into Simon’s workspace, Baz let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. The floor to ceiling windows spread to his workspace, as well. “I adore your room!” Agatha gasped happily, rushing over to the window and gazing around.

 

“Thanks,” Simon chuckled, “no one wanted the window space because they were afraid it would distract them while working. I actually love having natural light. And it gives my clients something to look at while I’m working on their piece.”

 

Baz smiled to himself, trying to hide it from the other two by craning his neck and looking at the walls. The wall to his left was filled with more artwork and doodles, some of which had impeccable detail. The wall straight ahead of Baz contained the windows. To the right, was a mural of almost a fantasy scene. A large castle stood in the center, with flowers and luscious green grass in the foreground. In the distance, a beautiful red dragon was floating through the sky.

 

Baz turned where he was standing to look at the final wall - polaroids and regular digital pictures hung on multiple strings, fastened by clothespins. Fairy-lights ran along the strings, setting up a peaceful aesthetic to the entire wall.

 

“ - friend getting a tattoo as well?” Baz broke out of his thoughts, only catching the end of Simon’s question.

 

Baz whipped around, eyes going wide with embarrassment. “What?”

 

A smirk rested on Simon’s lips. “I asked Aggie if her friend was getting a tattoo as well.”

 

Baz felt the blood drain from his face. He shook his head quickly, “I hate needles. No way.”

 

This made Simon give a hearty laugh. He ran his fingers through his bronze curls and Baz felt the blood rush to his face again, onto his cheeks and ears. “What’s so funny about that, if I may ask?” He was able to put a scowl on his face.

 

Simon shook his head, “nothing, nothing. Just - you came to a tattoo shop when you’re afraid of needles?”

 

Baz huffed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. “I came to support Agatha, okay? Doesn’t mean I actually have to look or touch a needle.”

 

“Good point,” Simon flashed him a cheeky smile and Baz felt his defense lower.

 

Baz hesitantly sat down in the guest chair as Simon and Agatha discussed designs. When she picked her favorite one, she squealed with delight and told the artist that she wanted it on her ankle. Simon disappeared for a few moments, which allowed a brief conversation. “What did you decide?”

 

“An asexual flag with a heart cut out of the middle. Simple but effective,” she explained.

 

Baz took her hand and squeezed gently, letting her know that he was also happy with her decision. Agatha then spent the next few moments trying to convince Baz to get a tattoo, before Simon came in with the final design and the purple stencil outline thingy (Baz didn’t know the proper term for it).

 

“Before I get situated and started, is there anything you want to watch or listen to?” He gestured to the TV and Bluetooth speaker.

 

“Whatever’s on your playlist is fine,” Agatha told him.

 

He smiled at that - Simon probably rarely got to listen to his own music at work - and soon, a familiar song was filling the air.

 

 _“_ _I was I was I was_

_Gonna say something that would solve all our problems_

_But then I got drunk and I forgot what I was talking about_

_I forgot what I was talking about...”_

 

Baz was giddy at the fact that Simon shared his music taste.

 

Baz watched as the artist set up everything he needed, made sure everything was clean and sterile, before putting the purple ink to Agatha’s skin. Once the sound of the gun started, Baz’s gaze shifted elsewhere.

 

He felt something warm on his wrist and he looked down to see Agatha’s fingers wrapped around it. Whether in pain or concern for himself, he wasn’t sure. “You okay, Basil?” She asked quietly. Concern for him, then.

 

Baz sent her a tight-lipped smile, nodding. He was about to say _I’m fine_ when Simon interrupted. “Basil? That’s your name?”

 

His gaze carefully shifted to freckled eyelids, trying to avoid the sight of the skin puncturing device. Blue eyes met gray ones for only a split second. But in that short moment, Baz saw amusement.

 

“His full name is Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch, actually,” Agatha giggled.

 

“ _Agatha_ ,” Baz hissed.

 

The gun was lifted from her skin and Simon sat up straight, properly looking Baz in the eye. “You’re kidding.” Baz could hear the laughter behind his voice.

 

Baz crossed his arms again. “No, she certainly is not. Got a problem with it?”

 

Simon burst into a fit of giggles while shaking his head. “Nope - no pro-problem at all!” He could barely get through the sentence without laughing.

 

Baz just huffed and rolled his eyes, standing up to go look out the window.

 

“Sorry mate, it’s just, it’s so fucking posh! And wordy.” The sound of the needle working on Agatha returned, so Baz refused to turn around.

 

“It’s an old family name.” Was all Baz responded.

 

That conversation dropped quickly and Simon and Agatha started reminiscing about secondary school. Baz had met Agatha at the University of Watford, one of the most prestigious Universities in the country. You could only get in if you knew or were related to Alumni, which was the only reason Baz went there in the first place. His father was one of the most recognized Alum. If it was up to Baz, he would’ve gone to the States to get a degree - away from crazy standards and his insane father.

 

Baz listened in to stories about pranks that Simon used to pull (some of which were actually pretty clever, but Baz didn’t comment), people that Agatha had to deal with in her extracurriculars, and all of the parties they both attended. Baz learned that they started dating in fifth year and broke it off in seventh year. It was when Agatha realized she was asexual (something Baz had already known).

 

Simon talked about discovering his sexuality and the many girls and guys he dated when he went to school to for business. He got bored of the classes quickly, but his friend Penny (the girl with the purple hair) talked about owning her own tattoo shop, so Simon took classes to get his certificate. They went into business together and with the help of Penny’s parents, became one of the most successful shops in the country.

 

Baz was actually very impressed. He knew how difficult it was to start from the ground up, and yet, a Uni drop-out did so and was doing what he loved. Baz envied the bronze-haired boy.

 

The conversation died down, leaving only the humming of the gun and Simon’s music floating through the air. Baz turned from the window and took a moment to admire the way the art looked. He watched as Simon’s fingers laid across Agatha’s skin to keep it still, and - after chancing a look a the devil device - how smoothly he moved the gun to color in the flag. He had a look of concentration on his face that Baz found absolutely adorable.

 

Only a few moments later was the tattoo finished. Baz walked over next to Simon’s empty chair to admire the beautiful piece. Simple but elegant, just like Agatha. “What do you think?”

 

Simon’s voice was closer than Baz expected, causing a breath to hitch in his throat. He turned his head slightly and noticed that Simon’s chin almost touched Baz’s shoulder. Baz whipped his head back around and coughed before responding. “It looks great. Absolutely great.”

 

Agatha sat up and squealed when she saw the finished tattoo. “I love it! Thank you so much Simon!”

 

Simon accepted her thanks and wrapped up her ankle, rattling off after-care products and procedure. They finished up at the front of the shop, Agatha bidding Simon one last goodbye with a hug, and Baz saying his farewells.

 

“I hope to see you again for your tattoo, Basil,” Simon said, winking.

 

Baz felt his face go impossibly red and he rushed Agatha out of the shop.

 

-

 

As Baz sat on his couch that evening, watching Netflix and throwing crisps into his mouth, Simon Snow would never leave his thoughts. As Queer Eye played in the background, Baz’s mind filled with fiery hair, star-covered skin, and gorgeous laughter. Not even the sweet moments between the Fab 5 and Mama Tammi could distract Baz long enough to keep him from jumping out of his seat, grabbing his jacket, and heading out the door.

 

-

 

Baz stared at the window outside of the shop, reading the display that had their business hours. On Fridays, they close at 22:00. Baz looked at his watch; 21:55. He took a deep breath before pulling open the door.

 

There was no one at the front desk this time. Just loud chattering and laughter coming from the back of the store. Baz shifted his weight uncomfortably, his mind racing. He should just leave now, no one would know he was even here. He could leave, never come back, and forget all about this stupid id-

 

“Hello?”

 

Penny appeared from one of the rooms in the back. She squinted her eyes as if trying to make out Baz’s figure. _There’s no backing out now,_ Baz thought.

 

Baz took a step closer as Penny walked down the hallway. “Hey, you’re Agatha’s friend right? From earlier today?”

 

He swallowed thickly as he nodded, eyes looking everywhere except hers.

 

“What can I help you with?”

 

“Um. I’m, uh, I - ” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Is Simon still here?”

 

He opened his eyes and finally met her gaze. Her lips were curled into a smirk and she gestured for him to follow her. The voices grew louder the farther back into the hallway they got, Baz able to make out some of the words.

 

 _“Shut up…. Mistake!” “Snow… stupid!” “What the hell is this!”_ Laughter and whistling merged with the loud conversation and Baz felt as if he was interrupting something. _I mean, I came here five minutes before closing…_ what did he expect?

 

“Simon, you have a visitor!” Penny said, after poking her head into what Baz assumed was the staff room.

 

She stepped out of the way, allowing Baz to step forward. His face instantly went red at the sight in front of him. There stood Simon, shirtless and with his back facing toward Baz. The dark haired boy felt his mouth open slightly, his eyes scanning over the art in front of him.

 

Large dragon wings covered the entirety of Simon’s back, the insides filled with delicate designs of all types. He saw flowers and cartoons, quotes and nature scenes. Baz knew he could spend hours looking over all of the pieces and still discover new ones every time he looked.

 

Baz’s eyes finally shifted up to Simon’s face, who was looking at him over his shoulder. His features held surprise, yet he seemed to brighten at the sight of the other boy. “Basil, hey!”

 

Simon quickly grabbed his shirt from the counter and walked past Baz and Penny, out the door. Baz figured he should follow, taking a short walk to Simon’s workspace. “What can I do for you?” Simon called behind him. After he unlocked the door, he made his way over to the desk in the corner and looked up at the anxious figure in front of him.

 

Baz didn’t comment on the fact that Simon hadn’t put his shirt back on yet.

 

His eyes stayed glued to his Doc Martins as he spoke to the artist, “I, uh, want to get a tattoo.”

 

There was some shuffling and rustling, causing Baz to glance up. Simon was grabbing a pen and a notebook, turning back to look at his new client. He had a soft smile when he spoke, “I thought you hate needles?”

 

Baz shrugged, his heart pounding so loud, he swore Simon could hear it. “I honestly don’t know why I’m doing this,” Baz lied.

 

There was only one reason that Baz decided to get a tattoo: he wanted to spend more time with Simon.

 

He didn’t even have the idea of asking him out earlier, and even if he did, he wouldn’t have been able to do it in front of Agatha. He wouldn’t have been able to grasp the words and he would’ve just looked like a bumbling idiot. Now that he was by himself, he felt a bit more… courageous. But not by much.

 

“Do you have an idea of what you want?” Simon asked, and Baz paused. He hadn’t really thought this far ahead. He started panicking and Simon placed a hand on his knee.

 

“It’s okay, you didn’t have to have a piece ready when you came in here. I’ll create an original. Just, tell me about yourself,” Simon said quietly, as if he was afraid to break the gentle atmosphere of the moment. He took his hand back and waited patiently.

 

Tell Simon about himself? What was there to say? He wasn’t a very interesting person and he told the bronze-haired boy just that.

 

“I don’t believe that. You have a…” Simon waved his hands in circles in front of Baz, “mysterious aura about you. You’ve got to have some great stories.”

 

Baz shrugged, “I’m a law student who goes to Watford University. Um, I’m friends with Agatha and I don’t really do any extracurriculars - ” Baz paused as Simon held up his hand.

 

“No offense, but I don’t care about that stuff. That stuff won’t create a good piece. Tell me about your family, your childhood. Your favorite memories, your worst fears.”

 

Baz sucked in a deep breath, trying to avoid the intense stare of the other boy. He began tapping his fingers on his thighs. _Family… favorite memories…_

 

“My, uh… my mom and I used to do this thing when I was younger,” Baz started. He watched Simon scribble onto the page.

 

“I used to sneak out of bed when I was like, seven or eight, because these really cheesy vampire movies came on at like, midnight, and I really wanted to watch them. Well, my mom caught me one night. Instead of scolding me for how late it was, she mocked me for enjoying these horrendous vampire movies.”

 

A light chuckle came from Simon, causing the corners of Baz’s mouth to curl up.

 

“She stayed up with me and we made fun of all the crappy effects and stupid dialogue. She told me I could watch them again, as long as it wasn’t on a school night. So, it became a tradition for us to stay up every Friday and watch the movies. I usually fell asleep halfway through them, but I didn’t care. As long as I was with my mom.”

 

Baz stopped talking, as tears started building in his eyes. He was afraid his voice would break if he spoke anymore. The scratching of Simon’s pen stopped, his plain blue eyes searching cloudy gray. “Do you still watch them with your mom sometimes? Like, when you go home on holiday?”

 

A tear slipped down Baz’s cheek but he wiped it away quickly, hoping Simon didn’t notice.

 

Another deep breath.

 

“She died when I was ten. In a fire.”

 

The silence was deafening. Baz could hear his blood pounding in his ears. A sudden touch made Baz jump in his seat, but Simon continued to place his hand on top of Baz’s and lace their fingers.

 

Baz sniffed and squeezed Simon’s fingers; a silent thanks.

 

“My mom died, too. When I was pretty young,” Simon confessed. His thumb rubbed the side of Baz’s finger, waiting until the other boy was ready to say something.

 

While Baz was collecting himself, Simon looked over the broken boy. His black hair fell at his shoulders gently and some fell in front of his eyes. His darker-than-tan skin was gorgeous; smooth and flawless. He had long fingers that were always moving, as if trying to keep occupied. Baz currently had his bottom lip in his teeth, causing Simon to stare at his pretty mouth.

 

If he wasn’t in such a professional setting, he would have no hesitation to lean forward and press their lips together.

 

But he couldn’t, especially not in the state Baz was in at the moment.

 

Baz’s raspy voice snapped Simon out of his reverie. “My dad used to say that she hung the moon. When I was younger, I believed him. I literally thought she was the one who put the moon in the sky. After she passed, I would go out onto the balcony and talk to the moon because I thought I was talking to my mom. My dad… he told me to grow up. Said that my mom wasn’t up there, that I was wasting my time and acting like a child. He told me to get over it, she wasn’t coming back.”

 

Simon reluctantly untangled his fingers from Baz’s to continue writing. Baz continued, “so I stopped. I stopped having feelings, stopped having emotions. I was a dark, depressed kid all through secondary school. I would snap at people constantly; no one wanted to be around me. I grew up, did what my father asked of me, no questions asked.”

 

“Then I met Agatha in University. She helped me get out of the rut, showed me it’s okay to be different and that I was  _allowed_ to feel things. She helped me come to the conclusion that I was gay. I didn’t even really know about all that stuff before I met her. She’s my best friend.”

 

Simon had his concentration face on again and Baz could tell he was no longer writing. He was drawing now, furiously laying lines on the page. Baz didn’t say anything more, just looked over Simon’s face. He found different constellations on the boy’s skin. He moved his eyes from freckle to mole to freckle, getting lost in the beauty of his imperfections.

 

He wanted to trace them, wanted to kiss all of them individually. His eyes drifted down to the pale boy’s shoulders and down his torso, the freckles never stopping. He swallowed thickly at the thought of kissing the freckles that went below his -

 

“I think I have an idea.” Baz’s eyes snapped up and his face felt as if it was on fire.

 

Simon’s book was now closed and the pen was seated behind his right ear. Baz’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing behind his hair. “Oh, you don’t need anymore?”

 

Simon shook his head, standing up, “nope, I think I have something you’ll really like.” He gave Baz a toothy smile.

 

The dark haired boy nodded, standing up as well and following Simon to the front of the shop. Simon reached over the front of the counter and wrote something quickly, handing it to Baz. He leaned against the front desk as Baz’s eyes scanned over the paper. A string of numbers, a date, and a time.

 

Baz’s eyes flicked up to see Simon looking up at him through his long eyelashes. “Is next Friday at closing a good time?”

 

“At closing? Why at closing?” Baz tilted his head slightly to show his confusion.

 

“No one else will be here.”

 

Baz’s heart started thumping out of his chest again. Simon didn’t want anyone around when he did Baz’s tattoo? Why? His mind was swirling into chaos. But he just nodded and thanked the artist, heading toward the door.

 

“Baz, wait.” His voice was so quiet, the boy in question almost didn’t hear him.

 

Before Baz completely turned around, fingers brushed his waist and warm lips hit his cheek. He sucked in a harsh breath as sparkling blue eyes appeared in his vision. “See you next Friday.”

 

After Simon disappeared into the back room, it took Baz several moments to snap back to reality and move his feet toward the exit. A large smile stretched onto his face and his fingers brushed the spot where Simon’s lips touched his skin.

 

-

 

Baz stared at his reflection in the window of the shop, running his fingers through his hair to make sure it settled. The light from the streetlamp was barely enough for him to see his silhouette, but if it kept him from stepping foot into the shop, he didn't mind straining his eyes. He fiddled with every little thing he could before the front door open and startled him out of his primp-session. “Come on in,” Simon told him, gesturing his head to inside the shop.

 

The entire shop was dark except for one light illuminating the back of the hallway and the light coming from Simon’s room. Baz hesitated, watching Simon turn the corner into the bright room, before slowly making his way back.

 

Curtains were drawn across the windows now, in order to keep pervs and creeps from looking into the workspace. Baz was silently grateful. Simon was searching for something in his files when Baz walked in, feeling uncomfortable and unsure of what to do. Simon continued to search as he spoke, “so, I drew up a final design that I think you’ll really like. It’s a very simple black and white piece.”

 

He found the paper he was looking for and handed it to Baz, eyes full of wonder. There was a crescent moon outlined on the page, simple dots used to outline the rest of what Baz assumed to be a ‘full moon.’ There was one bat that was in front of the crescent moon and a bat in the distance (still inside the full moon), both of them filled in with black.

 

“The crescent moon represents part of your mother, the story you told me of how you believed she hung the moon. The bats represent those cheesy vampire movies you used to watch with her. You’re the closest one and your mom’s the farthest one," Simon's long finger pointed to each thing as he spoke, "she’s flying further into the sky to fill in the rest of the moon and become apart of it.”

 

Silence surrounded them as tears flowed down Baz’s face. He was careful to not let any wetness hit the page, his heart swelling with warmth and happiness. He gingerly set the page off to the side and lunged at Simon, wrapping his arms around the pale boy’s neck.

 

Simon halted with surprise, but when Baz didn’t let go, he wrapped his arms around the other boy’s waist. “Thank you,” Baz whispered, “so, so much.”

 

Simon’s lips touched Baz’s broad shoulder to accept his thanks. They held each other for a few moments more before Simon pulled back reluctantly. “We should probably get your tattoo going.”

 

Baz nodded, taking a seat on the client bed. Simon started setting up his instruments and disappeared to grab the stencil. Baz took deep breaths in and out, anxious about getting his first tattoo and still recovering from his blubbering session.

 

When the curly haired boy sat back down, he took Baz’s hand and squeezed, silently saying that he understood how Baz was feeling. “Where do you want it?”

 

This decision, Baz had actually fully thought through. If it was going to be something important to him (and now knowing what the design was, he had no second thoughts), he had the perfect place he wanted it to lay: “Right over my heart.”

 

Simon looked as if he was about to say something, but held back. He grabbed the stencil and asked Baz to remove his jacket and shirt. “Is something wrong?” Baz didn’t want to be making any mistakes with this.

 

“It’s just… it’s going to hurt like hell. It’s one of the hardest places to get ink,” Simon said slowly.

 

Another breath in, slowly. “It’s…. It’s worth it.” Baz grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

 

Simon’s eyes drifted over his bare chest, which caused Baz to smirk. Electric blue eyes met stormy gray once again and Baz watched as Simon swallowed, his Adam’s Apple moving dramatically. He wanted to press his lips against that spot, his mind drifting to other things he wished he could do to Simon.

 

Simon took the opportunity to ghost his fingers over Baz’s chest and torso, causing the boy to shiver at the light touch. Wishful eyes stayed glued to a concentrated face, wishing he knew what the other boy was thinking.

 

Freckled fingers back, as if snapping back to the moment. Simon grabbed the stencil and went through the motions of placing it on Baz’s skin and finishing the setup. The playlist from before echoed around the room. Once Simon grabbed the gun to get started, Baz’s breath became shallow.

 

“You okay?”

 

No response.

 

“Baz?”

 

Almost hyperventilating.

 

“Baz,” Simon grabbed Baz’s left hand and placed it right above his own knee. “Look at me, Basil.” He obliged. “You’re going to be okay. When it hurts, squeeze my leg, okay? I promise you’ll be fine.”

 

The boy nodded, closing his eyes as Simon pressed the needle to his skin.

 

-

 

Almost an hour later, the artist let his client know that it was the final stretch. Baz was squeezing his leg so hard that his knuckles were white. The feeling was definitely not what he expected, but the pain was worse. The only thing that had kept him from passing out were thoughts of Simon. Kissing Simon, hugging Simon, waking up to a tired Simon.

 

The bronze haired boy would sing along to the song that was currently on and Baz focused on his voice. His horrible, off-key, wonderful voice. Simon would send him supportive glances, along with telling him that he was doing great and how proud he was.

 

A few more stings pressed into Baz’s chest and then relief. “We’re done!”

 

A long breath escaped from Baz’s lips and he squeezed his eyes shut. He placed a hand on his forehead and smiled. “I’m so glad it’s fucking _done."_ A chuckle came from Simon.

 

“If it’s any consolation, since you got your first tattoo in a really painful spot, every tattoo afterward is going to be really easy!”

 

Baz shot up at his statement. “Oooh no, no way am I getting another one of these things.”

 

This caused a full-on laugh from Simon. “Whatever you say.”

 

He placed plastic over the fresh tattoo and repeated the same aftercare Baz had heard him give Agatha. But he didn’t move from his spot as Simon cleaned up his area. The pale boy would disappear and come back, mumbling something about Penny and his workspace.

 

“Simon?”

 

He paused setting his inks in the cabinet above. He looked over his shoulder at the boy on the client bed. “Can I see your tattoos?”

 

A warm expression graced Simon’s features. “Of course.” He pulled his white shirt over his head and sat down next to Baz.

 

Baz crossed his legs and leaned forward, running his fingers along the outlines of the designs, wondering the significance behind each one. He heard a content sigh slip from Simon’s lips and he laughed silently, glad he was able to make the boy feel… good. “Which one is your favorite?”

 

Baz’s favorite was the small quote that floated from one wing to another: _Carry On My Wayward Son._

 

“The single rose with a bud near the bottom. I found a letter my mom wrote to me when I was young. She called me her Rosebud Boy.”

 

He found the design and let his fingers drift across it. An idea flicked across his mind and he had a moment of bravery - one he didn’t want to waste.

 

Cautiously, Baz leaned forward and pressed his lips to the rose tattoo. He felt Simon inhale, causing him to straighten up. He lifted his mouth only slightly, dragging his lips higher and pressing again. His hands settled around Simon’s waist as he continued to press soft, open-mouthed kisses all over his beautiful ink. He slowly moved his mouth up to Simon’s broad shoulders, attempting to kiss each freckle individually.

 

“Baz…” his name came out in a breathy sigh.

 

He didn’t stop, though. He continued along his upper back and to the back of his neck, gently biting skin. Simon let out a soft noise and Baz giggled.

 

Suddenly, Simon turned on the client bed, pulling Baz forward, pressing his lips desperately against the other boy’s. Pulling away only slightly after each kiss, their mouths returned quickly, once, twice, three times…

 

Simon held Baz’s face in both hands, tilting his head and deepening the kiss. Baz almost whimpered as Simon’s tongue dragged along his bottom lip. He allowed entrance happily, tongues tangling together.

 

Baz slowly laid back and Simon followed, dragging his fingers through black, silky hair. Baz bit Simon’s lower lip and pulled back gently, causing a growl to escape from the boy above him.

 

Simon’s lips detached from Baz’s to press along his cheek, jaw, neck, collarbones…

 

His favorite spot was in the crook of Baz’s neck, where he bit and sucked at the skin until Baz hissed, telling Simon that there would be a lovely bruise there the next morning. His lips continued down his chest, down his stomach, down -

 

“Simon.”

 

He continued to kiss and lick and Baz almost let him continue. But as his hands traveled down, Baz knew it had to stop.

 

“Simon, wait.” He gently pushed the boy up.

 

The look in the other boy’s eyes was an apology. Baz pulled him forward in an open-mouthed kiss, tongue pressing against his, telling Simon it was okay.

 

Their kissing went from desperate and hungry, to slow and tired. Simon laid on the boy below him, careful to not touch the fresh wound over his heart. “Thank you, again,” Baz told him.

 

Simon smiled at the vibrations from Baz’s chest.

 

-

 

A few weeks later, Baz joined Agatha at her tattoo check-up meeting. He hadn’t yet told her about his tattoo, or the fact that he was now dating her artist. But when they walked in on that Saturday afternoon, she found out pretty quick.

 

“Hey love!” Simon said excitedly when he spotted them, snaking an arm around Baz’s waist and pressing a warm kiss to his lips.

 

Agatha’s mouth dropped open, causing both boys to chuckle. She attempted to find words, but all she could manage were a few stutters.

 

Simon caught a few words, something along the lines of _when_ and _how_. “About, three weeks ago, when Baz came in for his tattoo?”

 

“When Baz came in for his _what_?!” Agatha screeched.

 

Simon helped Baz lift his shirt in order to show the girl his tattoo. She stepped forward and looked it over, a smile crossing her lips. “What the hell, why didn’t you tell me!” She smacked his arm.

 

Baz just shrugged, causing Simon to laugh harder. “There was never a good time?”

 

Agatha rolled her eyes playfully and made her way to Simon’s workspace. Baz pecked Simon one last time before following his best friend.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I got this idea in the shower ahah feedback welcome and encouraged!


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